I pushed the dread down, forced my smile to stay in place, and told myself to enjoy this. I earned this moment. I worked hard for this, and I wouldn’t let him take it from me.
Not tonight.
The Q&A ended and the event coordinator directed everyone toward the signing table the staff had set up near the front. A lineformed. Not huge, maybe fifteen people, but it wasmyline. My readers. I still couldn’t believe it.
I got weirdly emotional about it.
Sloane was first in line, because of course she was, slapping her book down on the table. “Sign it: To my favorite chaos demon, may your enemies perish slowly.”
“That’s disturbingly specific.”
“Do it anyway.”
I did it anyway.
Jade came next, still sniffling. “I’m so proud of you, Ri. You actually did it.”
“Please don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry, and then my mascara will run and I’ll look like a raccoon in all the photos.”
“Emotional support raccoon,” she said, and hugged me anyway.
Margo slid a mini wine bottle across the table with her book, leaning in to whisper, “Survive.”
“That’s not a toast, that’s a warning.”
“It’s both.”
I tucked the wine bottle into my bag and signed her book with slightly shaky hands.
Then came the strangers. Actual strangers who had read my words and felt moved by them. A woman told me my bookhelped her leave a toxic relationship. I had to blink very fast to keep my composure. A college student said she’d read Moonbound Hearts four times. A nervous guy was buying it for his girlfriend and kept blushing when I asked which chapter was her favorite.
I was floating. This was what it was supposed to feel like. Connection. Purpose. Proof that my weird little stories about werewolves and fated mates actually mattered to someone other than me.
Then a young girl approached the table. Nineteen, maybe twenty. Shy, fidgety, wouldn’t make eye contact with me, just kept staring at the stack of books on the table. Her clothes were worn but clean, her bag held together with safety pins in a few places.
“Hi,” I said gently. “What’s your name?”
“Emma.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I want to buy two copies. One for me and one for my sister. She’s the one who told me about your books. She’s gonna freak out when I bring her a signed copy. She’s in the hospital and I thought...”
My heart squeezed as her voice died down. “That’s so sweet. What’s your sister’s name?”
“Lily.”
“Lily and Emma. I love that.” I reached for two books, already planning what I’d write in them.
A hand landed on my shoulder.
Damien appeared behind me, his cologne making my nose burn. His hand landed on my arm, casual to anyone watching. His fingers pressed into the soft skin just above my elbow as he smiled down at Emma, all teeth and charm. I knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.
“That’ll be sixty dollars total,” he said, smiling at her. “Thirty per signed copy.”
Emma’s face fell. She started digging through her bag, pulling out crumpled bills, counting them with fingers that were trembling slightly.
Seventeen dollars. She only had seventeen dollars.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “I thought... I didn’t realize... maybe I can just get one?”
The words stabbed at me. I knew this feeling. I remembered being this girl, counting coins, wanting so badly to escape into stories but never having enough money to buy them. I remembered the shame of wanting and not being able to have.
